Keeper of the King
by SinfulRoses
Summary: Series of one-shots. The King of Dragons has gone undiscovered for so long thanks to a lost tribe outside the archipelago who have kept its secrets for centuries. But now, having been found by Viggo Grimborn, Eavane is the last of her people and must do whatever is needed to keep the knowledge of her forefathers from his hands. She must escape her slavery, whatever it takes.
1. A New Life

_**[Hi, so this fiction will be a series of one-shots, some closer together, some farther apart. The time gaps between each one will vary. Also, there is currently no pairing in the story, but it will end up as an Eret x OC in the future. Enjoy!]**_

 **Chapter 1: A New Life**

 _"Mama!"_

 _The shrill screech burst from the throng of confusion, all but completely muffled by the turmoil of what used to be a peaceful fishing village. Residents fled in every direction, trying desperately to get away from the barbarian invaders that rushed like a wave between the houses. They had received no more than an a few minute's warning before the invaders from across the sea landed on their shores, burning and pillaging, stealing and killing; the watch towers were seldom manned at night. There were no warriors in this trading village save the few guards placed by the coin house, their strongest fighter was a mere blacksmith who, whilst larger in stature, was nothing more than a cowardly soul who took one look at the Vikings and took what belongings he could find, making off without a glance back._

 _If the moment had not called for every ounce of her concentration, perhaps the girl would not have put too much blame at the blacksmith's feet. Even in this secluded corner of the world they had heard of the terrible Northmen, giants who worked as a pack, honing in on their victims to jump in at the last minute and slaughter all those who might oppose them and taking their spoils in both treasure and captives. But these tales were not the most unsettling things she had heard of the savage invaders, no: it was their dragons. Long held as only a myth along the Celtic coasts, the girl was told of fearsome winged beast that roamed the skies where the Vikings made port. If these wolves were strong enough to endure living among fire-breathing terrors, what chance did such a weak village have?_

 _In the midst of all the commotion, a young girl of no more the fifteen summers waded through the sea of fleeing people. The constant whipping of the wind drew her red locks into a knotted mess behind her with the acrid stench of the burning village clinging to her like a parasite. Her short frame was pushed and pulled relentlessly as people barged past in their frenzied escapes._ Woden must be truly angry at us. _The girl thought to herself with a trembling heart. Only the allfather could know why such a fate was befalling her sheltered life, ripping her from an existence that was hard but comfortable._

 _"Eavane!" The piercing scream came from inside the hut to the girl's right but what she saw was far worse than the anguish in the voice that called her. The cottage that Eavane, her mama and papa had lived in all their lives was set ablaze, giant tendrils of flames licking and devouring the air._ No!

 _"Eavane!" The shout came again. It was her mother. Eavane shot forward toward her burning home, dodging the dwindling number of figures as they threatened to knock her over._

 _Panting breaths wheezed from Eavane's throat yet she kept running. She had to keep running, to get to her mother before the flames consumed her completely. Finally, only a few yards from the front door, Eavane reached a hand forward in readiness to push into the hut a meaty shape blocked her vision and slammed into the side of her face. The indescribable force behind this intruder sent the girl reeling to the side just as her hand grazed the doorknob and crashed to the trodden mud. Her head swam as pain exploded behind her eyes._

 _The sounds that had thickened the air only moments ago seemed dull and far away, as if someone had placed her in a box. She could still hear the screams of her mother, she could even see her dear mama's blurred image clawing to escape the house as the roof caved in. But the sound that penetrated the fogginess which now held her mind was something else entirely. An eerie chuckle the felt so cold it sent waves of fear coursing through Eavane's limp body. The last thing she saw before her eyes closed was the looming head of a Viking, his hulking form silhouetted with twin blades across his back and a smaller, far more sinister character stalking up his left side._

A gentle sway woke Eavane from her sleep. The dulled chime of a bell clanked softly as waves broke against the hull of what she could only assume was a ship. The girl may not have been a sailor but she could certainly tell when she was on a boat. Eavane blinked a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes. The scent of sea spray and tarred canvas invaded her nose, it's not like she'd never smelt such thing before, simply that they had never been so damn pungent. With a groan, she sat up, instantly wishing she hadn't. Her head ached as though she'd been clouted, and her cheek stung.

But wait… memories began to filter back into the forefront of her mind as she concentrated. She did get throttled, the sting was a bruise shaped like a large hand that had turned an ugly plum colour with yellowing edges and a thin cut in the centre that could only have been caused by a ring. The image of her mother's screams crashed into her like she had just been rammed by a rampaging bull; the burning, the people scrambling over each other to get away, senseless murder and… the Viking pair.

"Shame we had to mark your face to get you more 'compliant'."

Eavane shrieked and backed away, her fingers scrabbling at the scratchy woollen plaid lain on the floor.

"Fanacht amach!" She tried to keep her voice from wavering but the pure terror she felt would not be masked.

"What was that?" It was the same voice as she had heard that laugh. His words were barely understandable in this foreign tongue for she only had a limited grasp of neighbouring languages. Her father had made sure she was wise in the languages of other civilisations but learning them had never been her strong point. Now Eavane racked her brains to try and remember it.

"I said, stay away!" She could tell her accent was heavy. The Viking straightened, his face morphing into a crooked grin.

"Now, why would I do that, _slave_?" The word hit Eavane like another strike. She knew this was what happened to those captured by the dreaded Vikings in their raids but tales of what was then done to them when they reached the Northmen's archipelago had never reached her village. One could only imagine.

"W-why did you take me?" She rasped through a crackling throat.

"Well why not? My men and I need a bit of sport now and then and we need a disposable body to look after the cargo so that… you know, none of my real men get injured. You'll do fine, you have a strong enough physique. Perhaps you'll last a few weeks."

Cargo? What cargo could injure people? Perhaps they were transporting weapons or worse, wild beasts.

"Who are you?" By this time, Eavane had curled herself into the corner of her plaid carpet.

"Oh my, how rude of me? Men!" The Viking called to the rest of his people on board the ship. The girl gazed with wide eyes as each man – there had to be at least thirty of them – came into view. Every one of them came to at least two heads taller than her, with broad shoulders and hateful snarls upon their lips.

"I am Viggo Grimborn, commander of the Dragon Hunters' legion!" He proclaimed with a flamboyant bow. The men snickered.

"And you are…" Viggo's voice seemed so soft in comparison to the rough baritones of his companions; however it did little to put Eavane at ease. If anything, it made the man all the more intimidating.

Eavane gulped and looked at each Viking. It was her turn and she could barely find the will to speak.

"I… I am Eavane."

Viggo cocked one eyebrow and gave her a sceptical look. "Evain?"

"Ay-vane."

"Well, Eavane, speaking my mind, I don't care who you are, you'll most likely be mincemeat within a few days. Isn't that right Ryker?" The chorus of cheers answered him was headed by a man whose stature was taller than Viggo and much larger of build too, though they had the same calculating gaze. When the girl spotted the twin swords on his back she sucked in a breath; it was the man who had batted her away from the hut door. He had flung her through the air like she was some sort of insect. _He_ was responsible for her mother's death. _He_ stopped Eavane from saving her.

"My brother will see to your… urm… attire." Viggo then turned and strolled away toward his cabin, not giving her another glance.

"Put this on." The savage brother who had been leering at her from behind Viggo threw a piled of rags at Eavane, who picked one up and glowered at him. They smelled rancid as though they had spent some time in the damp hold of the ship.

"I shall not."

"Yes you shall. You'll wear those or nothin' at all."

Despite having to relinquish what looked like a relatively warm long-sleeved work dress, Ryker could've sworn he had never seen anyone move quite so fast to put on some strips of cloth than he did the red headed girl before him. Soon she was dressed in what could only be described as a sack with more holes than actual fabric that did almost nothing to block out the frigid northern breeze. A set of thin arctic fox furs covered her chest – barely – and a ragged, old woollen sarong was draped around her hips as best she could manage. Her shoes had been taken, leaving her feet open to the biting winds and the only item even remotely warm was the plaid she had been laying on. But when her clothing was all assembled, she had thought it the end of the ordeal and had hoped Ryker would be satisfied and leave her be. No such luck.

The moment she had settled back to sit, the Viking surged forward, grabbing her hair in one giant hand. His fingers gripped the strands in a vice, pulling harshly on each one to extract a series of pitiful whimpers. In her renewed distress the girl failed to see a pair of rusted sheep sheers inching towards her head. The iron was dull, marred with spots of orange and green where corrosion had set in yet they remained razor-sharp and lethal. Ryker cut through her hair, snagging her scalp several times as he roughly sheered her before pushing her forwards back onto the plaid. Clumps of fiery hair floated to the deck to scatter at her legs and feet. Eavane could only imagine what she looked like, huddling there in the corner of the ship like a patchily shaved, caged deer.

"We'll be home by sunrise, then you can meet your cellmates." A malicious grin spread across Ryker Grimborn's face that sent chills running down the girl's spine. It was going to be a long night.


	2. Keeper of Caged Beasts

_**Hey you lot. So this is the second shot, set just after the first. Shot three will have a substantial time gap though so don't be alarmed. I hope you enjoy this little peak at the Dragon Hunter Fortress with a little bit of Grump action thrown in :)**_

 **Keeper of Caged Beasts**

The first sight of the Dragon Hunter base was a jagged peak sticking up above the clouds. Dark tendrils of mist roiled in the bay and Eavane wondered how the men could see where to make port. As the long ship came closer in, the fog clear somewhat, allowing a spear of rock jutting out from the main body to be seen over head. The stone was grey and dark, potholes littering every inch of what lay beneath the flat plateau on which Eavane spied an army of torches. In some of the holes she could've sworn she saw thousands of pairs of eyes, but maybe it was just the fear. But then she looked up. It wasn't just the fear. Dragons, hundreds upon hundreds of them dotted the skies, all of different shape and colour. The occasional plumes of flames lit the darkness as a beast blew its flame. The dragons were like nothing Eavane had ever seen. Some had bludgeon-like tails with small wings that flapped furiously, others two heads, even dragons that were shooting spines down at the ship from their tails. All the beasts looked to be hostile, swooping in only to be chased of or lassoed by angry Vikings.

"Here we are, home sweet home." Viggo came up behind her and would have caused her to leap forward away from him had it not been for the stern grip holding her shoulder in place. Suddenly she felt a firm grip on her arm when Viggo shifted his hands and a searing pain as he twisted it. Eavane was forced to her knees.

"Put the collar on, Ryker. We wouldn't want our little chew toy running away now, would we?"

Eavane felt something cold and cumbersome clamp around her neck, weighing heavily on her tiny shoulders, yet another reminder of her stolen freedom. The metal was some form of iron with a familiar sickly green colour but it was clearly in poor repair. The surface was unpolished with rough patches that chafed the smooth skin beneath. A jerking movement from the attached chain pulled roughly forward only for a hand connected with her cheek.

"Either walk or I'll drag you, I don't care which." She hadn't realised the others were all on land and waiting impatiently for her to move, so she rushed to follow her captors. Her head stayed lowered. Eavane didn't want anyone to see the silent tears that flowed over her cheeks or the line of blood that trickled down her chin from her busted lip.

Ryker watched with interest as the slept fitfully in her cage. He hadn't noticed it before, but the girl who he had attacked in that Celtic village was not too hard on the eyes. Her chest rose and fell jaggedly as she relived what he could only assume were nightmares. As tempting as she looked, Ryker turned away from his catch and marched up towards Viggo's tent. It was a large construction with a frame of tempered steel and the skinned head of a Snafflefang adorning the entryway. A guard stood on either side, stern expressions behind grim helmets.

The Hunter general nodded to his men before entering the tent. "She's been put into one of the cages for now but I'd like to put her to work as soon as possible. It's best to begin training early, as you know."

Viggo, who had been carefully writing at his desk, looked up from his quill and parchment to regard his brother. "Indeed, brother, although I do find that is more the case with dragons than with people."

"She seems fairly simple, Viggo, simple as a dragon at any rate. She'll learn."

"Oh I have no doubt about that. But as you know, I don't have time to be dealing with unbroken slaves. Hiccup Haddock and his accursed dragon riders have been hitting more and more of our bases and I need to get him out of our way. If the threat of this resistance is not crushed, we may have more pressing issues on our hands than an untrained slave." He stood from his desk to take position beside Ryker.

"The next shipment of dragons is due to be transported from the Northern Markets in two days' time and you will be leaving at dawn to go meet them. You have until then to brief your new slave on what duties she will be performing around this base in your absence: dragon feeding, serving meals, etcetera. She can work with manacles until your return. You should bring those two Berserkers with you as well, brother. Dagur may be deranged but he does know Hiccup better than we do and his sister's Razorwhip is a valuable tool." The leader sat back down at his desk, fiddling with his carving knife. Ryker took this as his cue to leave and stalked back towards the cage holding his new prisoner.

A satisfied grin dripped across his face when he arrived back at the girl's cage and found her sitting up with her back against the bars, a malicious grin sliding onto his face. She had not seen him yet so when his hand slid silently through the bars and latched around her unsuspecting throat, she let out a horrified shriek. Ryker's hands were calloused so chafed roughly on Eavane's smooth skin just above where the steel collar stopped.

"You should be more observant, little mite; a dragon might snap you up." He laughed as he opened the cage door and unbound her wrists only to restrain them again with a pair of tight shackles.

"My name is Eavane, not 'little mite'." She ground out between her clenched teeth.

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want, you're _my_ slave, after all."

Eavane's chains were once more yanked forwards, forcing her up to follow Ryker Grimborn out of her cage and into the heart of the dragon hunter base. Cages made from a metal tinged slightly green lined each of the walk ways and almost every one of them contained one dragon or another. There were many of bludgeon tailed ones along with those two-headed beasts. One such head snarled at her, sparks crackling from its mouth. Yelping at the dragon, Eavane hurried to keep up with her master. It wasn't long before they left the many hundreds of dragon cages and made their way into a storeroom stacked with crates and crates of fish, grasses and… rocks?

Eavane had little time to process the presence of rocks in a storeroom before Ryker pulled her harshly forward and grabbed her shoulder in a punishing grip. "Welcome to the feed room. Since your body is so disposable, Viggo would like you to take the most dangerous of jobs around this base that doesn't need to be done by our experienced hunters. You'll be feeding the dragons twice a day, one piece in the morning, one at night. When you've finished feeding the stock, you'll serve meals to the hunters in the mess hall. Is there anything I just said that confuses you? That stupid expression on your face annoys me." He finished with a frown.

Eavane schooled her features and looked down with unease. "I… I have to feed the dragons?"

The idea did not appeal to her at all. Gods only knew what kind of mauling she might get from an unfortunate encounter with a more ferocious animal. Drowning on the open ocean was looking more and more appealing.

"Aye, you have to feed the dragons. And as a _slave_ you will do exactly as you are told lest you wish to get a flogging for disobedience!" His voice had gone dangerously low. "Do I make myself clear?"

All the girl could muster was a petrified nod.

"Good. I'll supervise your first rounds but I will be leaving at sunrise. You have until then to get a hold of your duties or I might just throw you into a Monstrous Nightmare cage for a bit of fun. They like to slowly burn their victims before eating them alive." Ryker let out an inhuman cackle as he grabbed her shoulder once more and pushed her from the room.

Eavane had to bite her lip to muffle a groan of despair only for her damaged lips to flare with an uncomfortable sting. The slit the perforated her bottom lip still felt raw and was hot to the touch with the metallic taste of lingering blood. A bucket of stinking fish parts was thrust into her hand drawing her attention away from her own injuries. "Head out of the clouds, mite," The bulky figure of her captor leaned in uncomfortably close, his lips just inches from her ear when he whispered, "It's not just the dragons that'll take advantage if you aren't payin' attention." He punctuated his last word with lecherous hand creeping into the small of her back. He would have gone lower but Eav jumped away, lowering her head and nodding a meek 'yes, sir'.

Ryker straightened. "Good. Well get feedin' then. Just toss a handful of that chum into each cage."

For the rest of the day Ryker followed Eav around the rows and rows of cages watching with a critical eye as she threw the dragons their food. Some would snap viciously the moment the pair got close, others would cower at the sight of their tormentor lurking behind the small girl. It was these ones she pitied most for the more aggressive dragons all appeared fairly fresh with little to no scars and fire in their eyes. The submissive ones were more often than not the most broken of the beasts. Just as they were turning the corner of one of the upper levels, a rumbling gurgle attached to the squat body of a Hotburble. Eavane immediately leapt back, stumbling over her feet until she landed on the planked walkway with a thud. Convinced the dragon had gotten loose, she darted her gaze towards Ryker only to find him howling with laughter at her crumpled form.

"Gods, mite! You're gonna have to grow a pairs of stones if you're plannin' on living very long. If Grump here was any kind of fast or aggressive dragon you'd be half way down its gullet by now. It's just lucky for you Grump is the most docile beast we've ever encountered. Don't bother feedin' him though. He eats all the scrap metal we have around the base; it's why Viggo has him just roaming around. I don't even think the lard can fly." Ryker barked out a laugh and gave Grump a harsh kick with his boot.

Without thinking, Eavane reached out a tentative hand to the dragon to feel the knotted scales of its shoulder. Whether her intentions were to comfort the beast or just out of curiosity she could not tell. But when he felt the small hand touch his side, Grump turned his attention from growling at Ryker to simply staring at her as she moved her hand over his scaled skin. The dragon's rumbling snarls morphed into a gentle humming of appreciation for his first gentle tough in years.

"Leave it!" Ryker snapped, delivering her the same kick as he had given Grump. Only on her far less substantial body the force of it hurled her to the floor clutching at her sides. The dragon snarled again.

"Get up, you must finish this job before I leave on the morrow."

 _ **So there we go guys, Eavane has made her first step into the world of Vikings and it looks like Grump has a bit of a crush. I'm not sure when the next shot will be up but rest assured it's coming along slow and steady. It's exam season at the moment and it's difficult to find a spare moment to write.**_

 _ **See you all in the next shot :D**_


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